


Oh, How the Fireworks Shimmer

by FicNick



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, Blood, Dave | Technoblade-centric, Dissociation, Dream SMP Festival, Dream Smp, Fireworks, Hurt No Comfort, Murder, Possible Scopophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scopophobia, Severe social anxiety, Technoblade is a piglin, Violence, piglin - Freeform, piglin techno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27375874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FicNick/pseuds/FicNick
Summary: “There will be no fucking traitors in my god damned country!” Schlatt roared into the podium’s microphone, making well sure that everyone in the vicinity could hear him, hear his orders,hear their president. Techno could feel them staring. Were they staring athim?Why were they staring at him-
Comments: 7
Kudos: 326





	Oh, How the Fireworks Shimmer

“I only call you in for special favours; you and me, we- we go way back, right?” Jschlatt said, the power in his voice evident even in the controlled tone he maintained. The owner of rose irises was trained on the shorter men before him, all three so-very different though dressed the same. Prideful, fearful, confused.

Why is that one afraid?

“I don’t know what you mean.” Techno’s voice was low; lower than usual, almost hesitant, only seen if someone were truly searching. Jschlatt’s eyes were piercing in the way they scanned Technoblade’s features. The taller looked away, instead staring into the boxed podium in front of him. The teenager inside looked at him with wide eyes, hands placed on either side of the box keeping him trapped.

“Schlatt, what are you actually talking about?” The third man, Quackity, it’d been explained, asked. Techno spared him a glance before returning his eyes to the horned man to his left. 

“Techno,” Schlatt began, “I need you to take him out.” His voice was cold yet left a feeling of being burnt all the same. The piglin straightened his posture, eyes widening slightly in surprise. Schlatt sneered, narrowing his crimson eyes. He balled his hand into a fist, slamming it into the side of the box and causing the boy inside to let out a startled cry.

Something familiar weighed in his chest.

“Murder him right now!” Schlatt’s voice boomed, “On this fucking stage!” Techno could hear the crowd behind him murmur and whisper among themselves. His ears twitched and he felt his hooved hands go clammy. Techno vaguely registered that Jschlatt had reached out to touch him, only to decide better of it, before continuing.

“Make it hurt, Techno!” He ordered. The piglin looked to the vice president, but the man looked just as surprised, concern and confusion etched into his face as he stared with wide eyes at the horned man. Techno felt himself begin to sweat.

Something familiar that he had left behind long ago.

“There will be no fucking traitors in my god damned country!” Schlatt roared into the podium’s microphone, making well sure that everyone in the vicinity could hear him, hear his orders, _hear their president_. Techno could feel them staring. Were they staring at _him_? _Why were they staring at him_ \- “Are you kidding me!? My right-hand man!” Techno’s eyes lazily watched Quackity beg mercy for their prisoner. The crowd watched on.

He couldn’t hear their whispers. What were they saying about them? No- _no_ , this wasn’t _right_ \- he had to _leave_.

“It’s _not_ enough.” JSchlatt stated, finality fatal. Techno’s gaze started to flicker from side to side, and he bared his tusks anxiously.

There was a shaking voice and then JSchlatt was turning on him with pure anger in his eyes, and Techno felt his body try to jolt into action, but he held onto his composure for all it was worth.

“Technoblade.” He growled lowly. The taller man stared blankly, his hands tight on his crossbow. He turned to Tubbo, who had started crying. Why was he crying? The festival was today. He was so excited.

“Technoblade-” The young boy’s voice broke. “ _Techno._ ” He begged. Techno could hear people behind him shouting, but he couldn’t _focus on what they were saying_ -

“Tubbo- I’m sorry, Tubbo.” He said, voice blank as he felt the piercing stare of everyone’s _eyes_ on him- _let him leave_ -

“I’ll try to make it as painless as possible.” Why is his voice so deep? Why is he growling? He raised his crossbow with ease, not even bothering to aim perfectly. Their eyes, they’re _on_ him- _touching_ him. Make them stop, make them _stop-_!

“Tubbo, I’m sorry-” He grunted out, pressing the trigger and releasing the ammo within his weapon. A firework went off.

Tubbo’s shriek, Jschlatt’s surprised grunt, and Quackity’s fearful yowl all met his ear. When the smoke dissipated, two of the three men lay dead before him. The crowd broke out into screaming. They’re screaming- _they’re screaming_ \- make them _stop_! This is what they _wanted!_

The piglin snorted irritably as he reloaded his crossbow with practiced precision and turned on the crowd. They needed to stop screaming! _He’d done what they asked!_ With a terrifying, feral cry, Techno fired off into the crowd below. Blood spattered onto the ground below, sent flying by the explosion of his fireworks. 

Gulping in breaths of air, he reloaded his crossbow and shot it into the sky, the fireworks shooting off and exploding into bright colours of red, white and blue. 

_Just as JSchlatt had asked._

_He’d done what was asked of him._

He raised his head to the sky, letting out a horrific, primal, _victorious_ , battle cry.

The sounds of death, the sounds of their pain, it caused something to curl in his stomach. Something sick, twisted, and bittersweet. He panted, letting the scent of blood and viscera fill his lungs until it was all he knew. _Blood for the Blood God._

_Something familiar that he had left behind long ago._

__

__

_He felt at home_.

**Author's Note:**

> "I was victim to peer pressure."  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Damn, not me projecting again-


End file.
